It’s not just this field of golden flowers,
although this in itself is enough.
It’s the sky in its perfect shade
of summer blue with its mountainous
whipped cream clouds. It’s the way
the tall grasses on the hill billow
in waves like the sea’s with rafts
of pink crownvetch bobbing atop them.
It’s “Anthem” from Jonathan Livingston Seagull
wafting from the car’s speakers as I drive through
Ohio farmland on this quintessential summer day:
“Sanctus, Kyrie; Kryie, Gloria; Gloria, Holy, Holy.”
It’s my heart, brimming with peace and joy
at the miracle of being alive
in this perfect Now, in this perfect Here,
breathing the great Amen.